The Darkest Days are Yet To Come
by R-I-C-A-R-D
Summary: A random collection of unrelated scenes and ficlets inspired by Mass Effect and the soon to be released Mass Effect 3. "It's not the end of the world, but you can see it from here." - Eliza Cassan, Deus Ex: Human Revolution
1. Chapter 1

_Are we waiting for a saviour?  
>I'm so sick of waiting<br>I've been waiting  
><em>_My whole life  
>This is a new day<em>

Karnivool, _New Day_

**A bar, Omega**

She sits, slumps rather at the bar, just one more piece of human flotsam among thousands here on Omega and studies her reflection in the smeared mirror hanging over the backbar – formerly auburn hair died a lifeless black, eyebrow piercing glinting defiantly back at her. Like the dye-job, the eyebrow piercing is recent. Part of her effort to get as far away as is humanly possible from the girl she used to be. And what a girl: naive, idealistic, always seeing the good in people, even psychopathic bitches like Jack. And what has it gotten her, she demands of her reflection. What? Due to the oh-so-heroic actions of Commander Bloody Shepard, the Illusive Man has disavowed the entire Lazarus Cell, leaving her and the rest of the _Normandy _crew nowhere to go.

Tentative overtures to the Alliance – when she was sill the 'old' her – were rebuffed. As far as the Systems Alliance is concerned, she is a member of a terrorist organisation and the Alliance Does Not Negotiate With Terrorists. The fact that many Cerberus operatives are themselves formerly of the Alliance goes unremarked. Hypocrites. In her less self-destructive moments, she acknowledges that as bad as her life is right now, things could be worse. At least the Illusive Man deems her not important enough to warrant the use of a kill-team. No, the kill-teams are reserved for the likes of Miranda and Jacob. A smile tilts up the corners of her black-painted lips. Does not the Illusive Man _know_ what Miranda will do to a kill-team should she even _allow _one to locate her all?

Pulling her red-rimmed gaze from her reflection – oddly attractive despite the circles under her eyes from lack of sleep – she lifts a finger to the turian tending bar. He nods silently and deposits another shot glass before her. She is becoming something of an expert now at getting drunk and does not even feel the burn of the liquour down her her throat. She does not look around as somebody perches atop the stool to her left.

"This seat taken?" an all-too familar voice asks.

"What the fuck do you care?" she replies, voice devoid of anger. Cursing, like the dye-job and piercings – the one in her eyebrow is the only _visible _one is new to her but she's always been good at learning new skills.

"How have you been?" the voice asks. If she's offended, Shepard isn't showing it.

Kelly turns her head to face Shepard. Unlike herself, Shepard looks just peachy. There are no dark circles under _her _eyes and she doesn't look like her last proper meal was almost twenty hours ago. "Shouldn't you be out stopping the Reapers from killing us all?" Kelly asks. She turns momentarily back to the turian, raises her finger. Another nod, another shot. Down the hatch. She clicks the empty glass down amid the dozen or so preceding it.

Idly she wonders how she'll be able to get back to the tenement she's sleeping at. Probably have to beg a lift from the turian in exchange for a blowjob she thinks. This thought does not bother her as much as it should. The 'old' Kelly Chambers would never have let herself fall so far so quickly. But this is the 'new' Kelly and New Kelly isn't above selling her body when required.

"That's the reason I'm here," Shepard replies neutrally as though _not _seeing the expanse of empty glasses decorating the bar. Perhaps she thinks they belonged to somebody else, that the bartender can't be bothered cleaning them up. The turian bartender, scaled face sporting green clan markings ambles along the bar until he's standing opposite Shepard. "What can I get you?" he asks.

Shepard moves to wave him off. "I'm good."

Unmoved, the turian replies, "There's a two drink minimum. Order something or get lost."

Shepard eyes him steadily for several moments, unblinking. "You get a lot of tips with that attitude?" she enquires. "Give me two of whatever she's having," she says, tilting her head at Chambers. The turian grunts wordlessly and two more shots click onto the bar.

"Ten creds," he says.

Shepard slides a credit chit across the bar. It's a twenty. "Keep the change," she invites.

The turian's mandibles quiver with sarasm. "Oh joy, now I can retire from this shit-hole and never work again!" He takes the extra credits nonetheless.

Shepard picks up the first glass of clear liquid, raises it to Chambers. "Cheers," she says and knocks back the shot in one swallow. She spends the next thirty or so seconds coughing on the eighty-five proof alcohol.

Despite herself, Kelly's face breaks into a smile. "Strong stuff, huh?"

Eyes watering, Shepard can only nod and wonder what became of the giddy young psychologist who harboured a rather strong crush on her not three months back. "What happened to you, Kel?" she asks after a period of silence.

Kelly shrugs, fingers toying with a glass. "After the Illusive Man cut us loose, I tried to go to the Alliance but they won't have a bar of me." She snorts. "Called me a traitor. The Reapers are busy tearing Earth apart and they're hung up on formalities."

Shepard nods. "I understand."

Anger flares in Kelly's bloodshot green eyes. "Do you? Even after everything that's happened, the Alliance _still _welcomed you back with open arms! Commander Shepard who can do no wrong!" Kelly looks away so Shepard can't see the tears she can feel welling up.

"You feel angry and betrayed," Shepard says softly, "That's perfectly reasonable."

Now Kelly does face Shepard, "You're trying to counsel _me?"_

Shepard shakes her head, her eyes capturing Kelly's, refusing to let go. "I'm trying to get you back. We need you. _I_ need you. That jerk the Alliance got to replace you?" Shepard shakes her head. "He isn't fit to hold your datapad."

"So what, I'm expected to just come running after you because suddenly you _need me?" _

Shepard quips, "I don't think you're capable of running, in your condition." At length she asks, "Do you have some place to sleep?"

Kelly effects a girlish voice, "Oh yes, there's any number of places a good-looking girl can find a bed if she's willing to whore herself out for it."

Shepard winces at the directness of the reply. "Look, Kelly, I'm offering you your old job back. Not because I feel sorry for you or because I feel responsible for," Shepard waves a hand to encompass their surroundings, "This. But because you were part of my crew when we took down the Collectors. You and all the rest of them were there to back me when the Alliance and Council wouldn't."

Lips quivering with barely suppressed emotion and longing, Kelly replies. "Do you love me?"

Taken aback Shepard, grapples for an appropriate response, comes up empty. "I..." she trails off.

A tear pools in Kelly's lower right eyelid before spilling down the gentle curve of her cheek. "Because I love you," she whispers huskily. Voice stronger, she continues. "I tried to tell myself it was just a stupid infatuation but it isn't It just...isn't. I drink myself into a stupor every night just so I can stop thinking about you." Kelly reaches across the distance between them and clasps Shepard's hand. "Tell me you love me," she pleads.

Shepard swallows past a suddenly dry mouth. This requires the utmost care. The wrong answer will likely tip Kelly over the edge and into an abyss of alcohol. It is so tempting to say _Yes I love you_ and give the young woman what she so desperately yearns for but Kelly isn't so far gone that she won't be able to see the lie in Shepard's eyes. A lie, at this point, would be like taking Kelly by the hand and throwing her into the abyss over which she totters. Shepard's features harden. "No," she says, gently freeing her hand from the other woman's grasp. "And if I've done anything to lead you on, I'm sorry."

Kelly's face crumples and she looks away, shoulders hitching as she sobs quietly. Shepard watches her, feeling sick at heart for having had a hand in Kelly's fall. Part of her ponders the alcohol content of Kelly's tears. After a few minutes, Kelly gathers herself and turns to face Shepard, rubbing tears away with the heel of her hand. As she does this, Shepard notes the broken heart tattooed on the tender skin inside her wrist. "You're a friend, Kelly. A _dear _friend and I care about you."

"Oh great," Kelly says, battling sobs. "The 'I like you as a friend' speech. Fuck. Why don't you stick a knife in my heart and say I'm sweet as well?"

Shepard bites her lower lip. "You're drunk is what you are."

Kelly laughs a little and surprisingly, now that her true feelings are on the table and she's survived Shepard's well-intentioned rejection, she can't remain this angry. She isn't Jack. Constant rage at the universe and everything in it just isn't _her. _She sighs. "Can we...can we put this behind us and forget it do you think?"

"It's worth a shot," Shepard answers.

**Author's Note:** Hi! I'm writer RICARD. You may remember me from such fanfics as _Mass Effect: Elevation_ and _Days of Our Normandy Lives._ I'm here to write a series of random scenes and ficlets inspired by the Mass Effect fandom* Now sit back and enjoy _The Darkest Days are Yet To Come._

*Apologies to _The Simpsons_


	2. Chapter 2

**Cerberus Kill-Team Six, En route to Omega**

Cerberus Operative Lucas Draven paced the narrow confines of the dropship's cargo compartment, the top of his helmeted head occasionally brushing the alloy ceiling. As he paced he briefed the eight men and one woman under his command and felt their eyes tracking him as he moved.

"Our target is a former Cerberus operative, Miranda Lawson," he stopped pacing in the centre of the cargo bay, between the two rows of soldiers seated on benches bolted to the ship's superstructure. He activated his omni-tool and the interface's amber glow illuminated the otherwise darkened interior of the ship. Draven's right hand danced across the holographic display and the device projected an image of the target in mid-air. The image of Lawson, taken from Cerberus files, revealed shoulder-length dark brown hair framing a rounded face with cold blue eyes and a full mouth. Alongside the image ran columns of data detailing Miranda's biotic and combat training, ending in the words _Considered extremely dangerous._

"Lawson is an extremely talented L5 biotic and possesses above-average physical strength, speed and reflexes." He paused, gaze travelling along both rows of soldiers, meeting the eyes of each. They each returned the looks steadily, betraying no emotion or fear. "She is cold, calculating and, when circumstances demand, extremely ruthless."

"Sounds like my ex-wife!" one of his men, Henderson cracked. Henderson accepted an enthusiastic palm slap from the trooper seated beside him. The sole woman on the team, Holli Michaels, rolled her eyes and drummed gloved fingers against the armoured thighs of her hardsuit. "Can we _please _get on with this?" she demanded.

"Why the rush, Michaels?" Henderson replied, "You missing a beauty treatment or something?"

Holli raised one hand slowly and deliberately, giving Henderson the finger. "That's enough!" Draven snapped. Once he'd regained his squad's attention, he continued the briefing. "The Illusive Man is promising a hefty bonus if we bring her in alive but I've served alongside Lawson before and trust me when I say, if we hesitate in taking her down when we'll have a real fight on our hands." Draven resumed pacing, extinguishing the holographic image. "Find her, get the drop on her, put two rounds in the back of her head. Clear?"

"Clear," his team answered in unison.

* * *

><p>Miranda jogged at a moderately fast pace through one of Omega's myriad maintenance tunnels, feeling truly alive for the first time in months. Some hundred metres behind her, at a north-south intersection of tunnels, lay the bodies of two of the Cerberus operatives sent to kill her. She'd known the Illusive Man would send teams after her, in his position she'd have done the exact same thing and having worked closely with Cerberus' chief for so long, Miranda liked to think she could predict with some certainty how the Illusive Man would react to a given situation.<p>

Most other people in Miranda's current position – cut off from former colleagues and their support network and hunted like a dog – would have long since lost the will to continue fighting and submit to the inevitable. Miranda was not most other people and she relished this opportunity to test her skills against some of the best operatives currently in the Illusive Man's employ. Miranda may have been isolated from the Cerberus network and her old resources but she hadn't gotten to where she was today by failing to cultivate her own private network of informants and dead-drop sites throughout both Citadel space and the Terminus.

These tunnels were but one such dead-drop and Miranda carried on her person an impressive arsenal of tools and weapons – submachine guns and pistols alongside a scoped and silenced rifle for long range encounters. Her omni-tool and a selection of grenades rounded out the supplies and her hardsuit was a match for anything currently in service. That it closely hugged her physique and enhanced her curves was a mere side-effect. One she was not above exploiting. The comm unit taken from the dead Cerberus commandos chirped at her hip and Miranda slid into a shadowy niche set into the tunnel wall.

"Team Two, status report!" a familiar male voice spoke over the comm.

Miranda smiled in the darkness and raised the comm to her lips. "Hello, Draven," she greeted her erstwhile colleague, eyes and ears attuned to the sounds of pursuit from the tunnels. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Lawson? What happened to my team?"

"You're a smart man, Lucas," Miranda replied. "I'm sure you can work it out."

Draven quickly muted his comm and hissed at Michaels, "It's Lawson! I'll try to keep the bitch talking as long as I can, see if you can triangulate her position."

Holli nodded and began working her omni-tool though she harboured doubts. Miranda wasn't stupid; she had to know the Cerberus operatives would try to track her position.

Draven re-opened the commline. "The Illusive Man is _very _unhappy with you, Miranda," he spoke in conversational tones. Just two people chatting about nothing.

"Oh, I can well imagine," Miranda's Australian twang sounded in his earpiece. "But these last few months have given me a...new perspective on the galaxy and my place in it."

Draven snorted, "Shepard turned you, you mean. Don't worry, The Man has plans for _her _too."

The Cerberus operative heard the smile in Miranda's voice. "Right now, Shepard is the least of his worries." Draven shot a glance at Holli. The other woman looked up as her omni-tool beeped and nodded. Draven smiled crookedly. "Been nice talking to you, Miranda. I'll be seeing you sooner than you think."

"Looking forward to it," Miranda answered before cutting the signal.

Stepping out the darkened niche in the wall, Miranda tossed the comm aside. Its work was done and there was one more element in the drama about to play out; Miranda believed it was past time to put it to use. Keying her comm, Miranda opened a channel to the woman known to Cerberus as 'Subject Zero.'

"Jack?"

The tattooed biotic sighed, "What is it, Cheerleader?"

"A Cerberus kill-team is heading to your location." She paused a moment, allowing herself a small smile. "They won't be expecting you."

"How many?" Jack demanded and Miranda heard the predatory grin on her face.

"Cerberus protocol recommends at least two five-man teams. But I've taken out two already."

Jack snorted,"What? I'm supposed to be impressed?"

"They'll be there in about five minutes." Despite herself, Miranda could not help adding, "Good luck."

"Fuck you, Cheerleader," Jack hissed before the line went dead.

* * *

><p>"All right, boys." Draven shot a glance at Holli, "And girl. Here's where we're at: Michaels has triangulated Miranda's position to this warehouse," as he spoke, Draven brought up a schematic of the area on his omni-tool, highlighting a large, disused space a half-klick away.<p>

"What are the odds it's a trap?" Krueger asked.

"High," Draven admitted. "But all of our intel suggests she's cut off from any form of support and besides, this is the best chance we have to nail her." With that, Draven turned and led his seven surviving men towards the warehouse.

From a position atop the roof of a structure across from the warehouse, Miranda observed the kill team as they assembled outside the closed doors. The sole woman on the team nodded at an unheard order from Draven and bent over the keypad, omni-tool glowing. "They're hacking the lock on the door, Jack," she warned the biotic lurking within.

"Yeah, yeah," Jack answered.

The warehouse door rattled upward on poorly maintained tracks and half of the eight-man team darted into the space beyond, the rest remaining outside. For several seconds, Miranda could hear nothing of note beyond booted footsteps. Then the interior of the warehouse glowed a brilliant blue-white as Jack's biotics cut loose. A powerful shockwave blasted through the doors, carrying with it the contorted forms of the four soldiers. Even as their bodies bounced and thudded off the floor, the rest of the squad began pulling back, blind-firing into the room.

Shotgun blasts from inside the warehouse forced the team back yet further. Holding her position on the roof of the building, Miranda unslung the rifle and scoped in on Draven.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

And pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:** So lately, I've been thinking of how the Illusive Man would react if Miranda and Jacob sided with Shepard if Shepard defies the Illusive Man and destroys the Collector Base. And I'm thinking assassination squads and kill-teams. As you do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Barack Obama Spaceport, Earth**

Though not usually given to praying, a prayer of sorts loops endlessly through Captain Zarah Collins' mind – _OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod_. Outwardly, the owner and captain of the battered freighter _Life Begins_ is cool, calm and collected. Inwardly, she is freaking out. As well she might. _Earth_ she says to herself, in between loops of _OhGodOhGod_. _Earth under attack. By freaking aliens! _

Given the choice, Zarah would be anywhere else right now. Up to and including the event horizon of a black hole. Instead she is here – her ship docked at a spaceport named for North America's first African American President, watching as hordes of displaced refugees move towards her ship and dozens of others in tightly controlled lines, hoping to flee before the Reapers finish the grim task of annihilating all life on the planet.

Glancing at her helmsman, Zarah asks, "We're screwed, aren't we?"

"Oui, mon Capitan," Pierre La Fontaine replies. "We are in deep _merde."_

Wating as the survivors of the invasion near the ships, Zarah pointedly refuses to look at the skyline beyond the spaceport, unwilling to catalogue the destroyed skyscrapers, the columns of black smoke from ruptured gas lines and destroyed vehicles. A hot wind carries with it the commingled and unpleasant scents of burning fuel and human flesh and despite the heat, Zarah pulls her uniform jacket tighter around herself. Beneath the jacket is a loose fitting blouse emblazoned with an image of Commander Shepard addressing the Citadel Council and the words "NOW DO YOU BELIEVE ME?"

The ruination of Earth's major cities is bad enough, she thinks as she observes the port's over-stretched security teams attempt to keep order. Even worse are the victims of indoctrination. Already, sketchy reports have emerged from London and Tokyo of seemingly-normal people boarding freighters and detonating concealed explosives once airborne, killing thousands and exposing countless more groundside to airborne element zero.

Zarah shivers as the lines of distressed humanity inch ever-closer to her vessel. Gripped by a sudden urge to be off the planet, she turns back to her helmsman. "Begin prepping for lift-off. I want to commence upthrust as soon as the last passenger is aboard."

La Fontaine nods and turns to the embarkation ramp, "Oui."

Of course, Zarah thinks to herself, no 'end of the world' scenario would be complete without the obligatory sign-waving Bible-thumpers. These too are out in droves, wandering aimlessly and shouting hoarsely at anybody unlucky enough to catch their eye. "Repent!" Shouts one, "For these are the End Times! The Rapture is upon us!"

A nearby security office engrossed in a game of _Angry Turians_ on his omni-tool sighs irritably. "If that idiot says 'repent' even once more, I'll-"

"REPENT!"

The security officer snaps. Zarah sees it in his tired blue eyes. "Right," he says, jaw set determindly. "That's it," and begins marching towards the sign waver, slotting a tear gas grenade into the receiver of his grenade launcher. Zarah rolls his eyes as he walks away. By now, the first of the dispossesed are arriving, Alliance soldiers directing them to various craft seemingly at random though given the Alliance's penchant for bureaucratic red tape and procedures for the sake of procedures, there's some method to their madness. Zarah does not care. Her ship, reconfigured at the Alliance's expense to convey as many passengers as possible stands ready to do her part.

She fishes the comm from her belt. "Pierre?"

"Oui?"

"I'm not hearing the drives coming online." She shoots a glance at the bridge of the Kowloon-class vessel. "What's going on up there?"

"Ah, mon Capitan, we are experiencing a slight...problem in engineering."

Zarah's thumb relaxes on the comm switch as she swears to herself, alternating between English, French, Italian and finishing with a few choice phrases in turian. Her thumb depresses the switch once more and she raises the comm to her mouth. "Patch me through to engineering," she says, voice once more outwardly calm.

"Engineering," her niece Jenna answers.

"Jenna, what in the sphincter of Hell is going on down there?"

Though only in her early twenties, the young woman possesses the kind of technical expertise one commonly associates with quarians. Hurriedly she replies, "Everything's shiny, Cap'n. Not to fret! "

"No pressure or anything but if we're still on the ground by the time the Reapers get here-"

Jenna cuts her off, "Hear that?"

Cocking her head to one side and doing her best to ignore the chants of the blessed, Zarah does indeed hear the distinctive hum of a mass effect core powering up. She sighs with relief. "Good girl."

"Say, do I get a bonus for this run?"

"Don't push you luck, Jen," Zarah says with a smile and cuts the connection.

A harried looking young man in an Alliance hardsuit jogs towards Zarah, at the head of an orderly crowd of several hundred people, all muttering nervously among themselves. "Captain," the Marine greets her. "Are you ready for lift-off?"

"Hell yes, Corporal," Zarah replies, mentally counting the chevrons painted on his armour. Her gaze moves past him to the crowd at his back. "How many do you have there?"

"Five hundred, Ma'am."

"Bugger. We can fit them but it's not going to be what you'd call comfortable."

The Corporal shrugs. "Long as we get off this rock, I don't care if I have to bunk with Satan."

"REPENT!" A voice shouts.

Zarah frowns. "I am so not letting that idiot on my ship. Not without sedatives, at least."

The Corporal smiles crookedly. "I don't think we have enough drugs to sedate all the whackos, Ma'am."

Shaking her head, Zarah replies, "Not for him. For me."

Leaning over, Zarah picks up a megaphone lying at her feet and switches it on. A shriek of feedback makes all those in attendance wince but at least it gets their attention. "Uh, hello? My name is Zarah Collins and this is my ship, _Life Begins-"_

"Looks like a heap of shit!" a man yells out.

Zarah frowns. "You just bought yourself a berth next to the drive core. And the shielding needs replacing. Hope you weren't planning on having kids." She pauses. "Now, we all want off this planet as soon as possible but I will not tolerate a stampede aboard my ship. Proceed in an orderly fashion. I catch anybody pushing or shoving, and they'll find themselves sharing a berth in the drive core."

Despite the risk of imminent death by Reaper, the five hundred proceed up the loading ramps in an orderly fashion, the very presence of the Marines enough to discourage troublemakers. Zarah squeezes past the last of the evacuees to board, a sudden blast of hot wind plastering strands of dark auburn hair to her face and steps into the relatively cool confines of the bridge.

Behind her, the freighter's hatches wheeze closed on leaky hydraulics and the deck thrums beneath her boots, as though the very ship herself cannot wait to cast off gravity's shackles. Even now, in this darkest of hours, the Alliance clings to protocol. _Life Begins _is going nowhere until she has clearance.

"Alliance Control, this is MSV _Life Begins_ requesting clearance to depart, over."

There's a second or two of dead air on the line following this request in which Zarah shifts impatiently from foot to foot; it's not like she has anything better to do, after all. A palpable feeling of relief washes through the bridge as the Alliance operator responds. "_Life Begins,_ you are clear to depart." The male voice of the anonymous flight controller trembles. "Good luck and Godspeed."

Looking out the windows at the destroyed cityscape, Zarah has to take a moment to swallow past the lump forming in her throat. Five hundred or so evacuees aboard her ship but how many more remain trapped out there, unable to reach safety in time? A roar of sound overhead shatters her train of thought as a flight of Alliance fighters streaks by, fire blossoming from cannon mounts as they strafe hordes of indoctrinated people. "Pierre," Zarah says quietly. "Get us the hell out of here."

"Oui, mon Capitan."

* * *

><p>Spontaneous applause erupts as Zarah enters the freighter's passenger compartment; and well might her passengers applaud. Now that <em>Life Begins <em>has pulled free of Earth's gravity well, they can afford to relax a little. Zarah smiles as the warmth of the crowed washes over her though she knows that, in the time it takes to arrive at the mass relay beyond Pluto, she'll experience moments where she'd cheerfully space the lot of them.

The applause dies down and the evacuees begin staking out their own corners of the ship for the duration of the voyage; several of them offer their thanks to Zarah but she waves them off, uncomfortable with the praise. She owns a freighter, battered as she is; how could she _not _do what she can to help?

As she turns back to the bridge, somebody begins playing the opening bars of _Stairway to Heaven _on an acoustic guitar and she smiles a little.

**Author's Note:** So here's the thing: _Life Begins_ was originally going to feature in an ongoing story drawing inspiration from _Firefly _and _Serenity_ - hence the dialogue about the sphincter of Hell but it never came together. Instead I found a home for my battered Kowloon-class freighter here, as part of Earth's evacuation efforts following the Reaper attack.


	4. Chapter 4

_For argument's sake  
>Let's say that we will<br>Tell me what would you give  
>For just one kiss?<br>Lost love will always  
>Say what we don't want to hear<br>But you and I together feels like bliss_

Birds of Tokyo, _Violet_

**SR-2 Normandy**

"Counselling?" Commanders Shepard and Alenko replied in unison to the Yeoman's well-intentioned suggestion. Since taking his place on the SR-2 as part of the Alliance's response to the Reaper menace, the tension between Staff Commander Alenko and Lieutenant Commander Shepard had been palpable. Kelly shook her head in dismay at their behaviour when around one another – sniping at each other and bickering like school children. Whenever they occupied the same deck at the same time, a frisson of unease built between them like static charge surrounding a biotic.

Kelly found it difficult to maintain her professionalism under the circumstances; her feelings for Shepard lurked below the surface and if she was completely honest with herself, she had to admit that Shepard was being something of a jerk around her former colleague and lover. As far as the yeoman could tell, Staff Commander Alenko was doing his best to maintain civility while aboard the _Normandy._ Shepard meanwhile, refused to defer to his superior rank, using the fact that Alliance High Command had placed _her_ in charge as a shield from which to attack Alenko with impunity.

"Hope you're taking notes, Chambers," Joker had said drily following yet another argument between the two officers. "This is why you don't fraternize with your crew." He shook his head and returned to his cockpit displays, muttering, "Idiots."

Presently, Shepard was blunt in her appraisal of Kelly's suggestion. "That ain't gonna work."

The Staff Commander was more diplomatic in his answer. "I appreciate the suggestion, Ms Chambers but I don't think it's such a good idea."

Giving Kaidan the full force of her green eyes, Kelly mentally cranked the dial labelled 'Flirt' to eleven. "Please, call me Kelly."

"Ms Chambers," Kaidan replied neutrally.

Beside him, arms folded across her chest, Shepard rolled her eyes. "Really, Chambers? He's been aboard all of ten minutes and already you're giving him the 'call me Kelly' treatment?"

Kelly turned her unblinking gaze on the junior officer. "You had your chance, Commander. And blew it."

Kaidan's dark gaze shifted from Kelly to Shepard and back. "Maybe I should leave you two alone?"

Shepard glared at him. "Maybe you should shut the hell up."

Without waiting for leave to depart, Shepard departed.

Kaidan shook his head. "She always has to have the last word."

* * *

><p>"You know how disputes between crew are settled on turian vessels?" Garrus asked, pausing to fork a bite of fish into his mouth. It was lunch aboard ship and the frigate's various crewman had come together to eat and trade salacious gossip about Shepard and Alenko.<p>

"How?" Kelly answered, curious to learn how different species responded to such problems.

The turian shrugged. "With violence, usually."

Joker grinned. "Tell her the 'reach and flexibility' story, Garrus."

Tali slapped a palm against the visor of her helmet, a gesture so human, Kelly could only laugh in response. "They're both grown adults," Tali grumbled. "Yet they're behaving like a pair of bosh'tets!"

"She still loves him," Gabby observed from the end of the long mess table. "She wouldn't care so much, otherwise."

"In Shepard's defence," Garrus replied, idly tapping his fork against the table. "Alenko _did_ call her a traitor, more or less."

Kelly nodded; she'd listened to the audio feeds on Horizon taken from Shepard's hardsuit computer. Though it was well concealed beneath her anger, Kelly had also heard the pain and hurt in the former Spectre's voice as she grappled with Kaidan's accusation. "If she can't move past those feelings of pain, she'll never be able to rekindle their relationship."

Conversation stalled as the lift doors on the crew deck hissed open, preceding measured bootsteps across the floor. Knowing a guilty silence would condemn them as surely as being caught discussing Shepard behind her back, Garrus immediately took action. "We had a tie-breaker in her quarters," he said, a little too loudly. "I had reach but she had flexibility."

This was answered with a chorus of groans as Shepard entered the mess. If she possessed any clue as to the most recent topic of discussion, the Spectre gave no sign of it. She merely collected a tray of food from Mess Sergeant Gardner and seated herself between Garrus and Joker. "Any pressing business I should be aware of?" she asked the group at large.

"Well, there is _one_ thing,' Tali began tentatively and Kelly experienced a moment of pure panic – attempting to talk to Shepard about her issues with Commander Alenko _in public_ was apt to end badly for Tali. Kelly made a series of frantic cutting gestures at her throat, indicating Tali should keep quiet.

Tali did not keep quiet. Shifting uneasily in her seat she went on. "We think the tensions between you and Kaidan, I mean Commander Alenko are detrimental to the crew."

"You do, do you?" Shepard replied mildy and those seated around her grew very still and quiet. It was known aboard the _Normandy_ that when Shepard raised her voice, things would usually turn out mostly fine. It was the times she was quiet that she was most apt to inflict violence upon some poor unsuspecting soul.

Despite the inherent dangers in pissing off Shepard, Tali forged ahead. "The crew constantly feel as though they are 'walking on eggshells' whenever the two of you are close by."

Wordlessly, Shepard surveyed those seated at the table and though none met her hardened gaze, they all nodded in agreement.

"And you'd like me to what?" Shepard replied, voice still quiet. "Kiss and make up? Maybe," she directed a hard stare at Garrus, "Test our reach and flexibility?"

Garrus shifted in his seat, uncomfortable under the human's intense scrutiny. "No. But would it harm anything to just talk things out?"

Abandoning her meal, Shepard countered. "Like you and Sidonis just _talked things out?"_

Garrus bristled, "That's completely different, Shepard and you know it!"

Shepard threw her hands up. "Fine! I'll go talk to him but it won't change anything."

Joker waited until Shepard had reached the elevator and cleared the deck before venturing, "Fifty credits says she and Alenko end up having angry sex. Then make-up sex. And then regular sex." The helmsman looked around the table at the rest of the crew. "No takers?"

"Ah, what the hell," Kenneth said, and slapped a credit chit on the table.

Gabby grinned. "You are _so _going to lose that bet, Joker."

* * *

><p>Shepard seethed. Where did her crew, <em>her crew<em> get off lecturing her about her conduct? And where did _Staff Commander_ Alenko get off, accusing her of betraying the Alliance? What should she have done instead? Walk away from the Illusive Man and bury her head in the sand, pretend the Reapers weren't bearing down on the galaxy? And now some desk jockey who'd never faced live fire had re-assigned Alenko to the _Normandy? _And she was expected to just swallow it? Commander Shepard never swallowed.

Angrily, the Spectre paced the corridors of the frigate, sending her crew scuttling away lest lasers shoot from her cybernetically-enhanced eyes and incinerate them.

For his part, Commander Alenko remained in what was formerly Miranda Lawson's office aboard the SR-2, reading reports of the ongoing evacuation of Earth and other human settements deemed to be most at risk. Kaidan didn't know by which methods the politicians deemed a colony to be at risk or not. As far as he could tell, they all were.

Eventually, after the last report had been read and filed appropriately, he turned his attention to Shepard. Technically, he outranked her. He could and probably should pull her into line but he wasn't stupid – Shepard was too proud a woman to allow regs to dictate her actions and as she had so coldly pointed out after he first arrived, his promotion to the rank of Staff Commander was little more than the Alliance's way of sweeping him under a figurative rug – a promotion and a dead-end makework assignment well out of the public's eye.

Kaidan may have outranked Shepard but even he felf as though he hadn't earned it.

Kaidan sighed and massaged his temples for a moment, feeling a dull ache behind his eyes. As close as he and Shepard had become two years prior, it was the crew of the SR-2 who could claim to know Shepard better and none moreso than Yeoman Chambers. Dropping his hands from his head, Kaidan paged Kelly.

Thirty seconds later, the door chimed and he keyed the release set into his desk. Kelly stepped inside the office, came to attention and saluted, all without her intense green gaze wavering from his own brown eyes. Shepard had pulled some of her Spectre strings and Kelly had been formally sworn in as an Alliance officer, complete with the shipboard fatigues and beret. On Chambers, the beret looked very cute indeed. Standing at ease, she said, "You wanted to see me, Sir?"

Kaidan nodded and gestured for Kelly to sit in one of the vacant chairs. Once she was seated, Kaidan began. "It's about Commander Shepard."

Kelly nodded. "Permission to speak frankly, Sir?"

_Oh this'll be good _he thought but Kelly's earnest appraisal of the situation was why he'd summoned her in the first place so he simply nodded his assent. "Shepard is pissed off, Commander," Kelly said flatly. "At you," she added, somewhat redundantly.

"And her reasons for this are?" Kaidan prompted.

Kelly crossed one leg over the other. "On Horizon," she began, "You accused her of betraying the Alliance and selling out to Cerberus." She raised a hand as he opened his mouth and he remained silent. "I can understand how her working with, not for, the Illusive Man would look like that but believe me, Commander, everything Shepard did was with the intention of _preserving _the Alliance."

"But you understand how it must have looked from my perspective, Ms Chambers?" Kaidan asked.

Kelly nodded. "I have to admit, given the circumstances, it would have looked bad but sir," she leaned forward in her seat, staring directly into his eyes. "The way you reacted, Shepard was poleaxed. She kept up a pretty good front on the ground and around the crew but in private?" Shaking her head, Kelly went on, "She went to pieces."

"Oh," Kaidan replied.

Kelly settled back in the seat. "She's still hurting and just when she thought she'd more or less gotten past it..." she trailed off.

"The Alliance put me right back in her face," Kaidan provided. "Great."

Kelly smiled sunnily, "It's not all bad, Commander," she said brightly. "The fact that she'd cheerfully strangle you right now means she still cares for you a great deal." Kelly paused, still smiling slightly. "And why wouldn't she? With all due respect, sir, you are quite an attractive man." Kelly made one last, valiant effort at cracking Kaidan's defenses. She gazed at him from beneath lowered eyelids, giving him her best 'come hither' look. Somewhat disappointingly, the Staff Commander _didn't _lunge across the desk, rip off her clothes and ravish her. She sighed.

Kaidan shook his head though part of him admired her persistence. "And your recommendation is what?"

Kelly shook herself, once more the professional psychologist. "You need to give her more time, Commander. She'll come around." Kelly paused for effect before adding. "Eventually."

* * *

><p>Shepard hissed in a pained breath as her fist connected with the blade-like edge of Garrus' right mandible, opening a gash in her hand. Garrus rolled with the punch and came back at Shepard with a right cross that would have knocked a lesser being into a senseless heap on the floor. Shepard however, with her impressive array of cybernetic hardware merely blinked away the starbursts of light the blow had induced in her field of vision before counter-attacking.<p>

Unnoticed by either combatant, Kaidan entered the drop bay and joined the dozen other crewmen watching the bout. "How long have been at it?" he asked Joker. The helmsman glanced from Kaidan to the chronometer on the bulkhead and back. "A half-hour," he answered and winced as Garrus landed a body blow, staggering Shepard for a moment.

Joker shook his head. "You know all that frustrated energy is a result of her not having had sex since she died?"

Kaidan was flummoxed. "I..._what?"_

"Shepard," Joker pointed at the human, sweat-slick skin gleaming under the drop bay's strip lighting. "Hasn't gotten her rocks off since you two..." he trailed off. "Of course she'd never admit that to anybody."

Kaidan frowned. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Uh, what do you think I _do_ all day up in the bridge, Alenko? I see everything and hear everything."

Kaidan rubbed the back of his neck. Joker added, "Just be glad it's not _you_she's beating the crap out of."

* * *

><p>Somewhere between angrily pacing the decks and Garrus pinning her to the deck in a headlock, Shepard decided to bite the bullet and make a fresh start with Alenko. Partly because she knew if her crew were to have any chance at defeating the Reapers, there could be no internal divisions among them and partly because the constant anger had caused the cybernetic traceries beneath her skin to flare dramatically, turning her head into some eerie humanoid jack'o'lantern.<p>

With the gash in her hand throbbing in time with her heart, Shepard stepped from the elevator on the crew deck and, facing resolutely forward, crossed the deck to the Staff Commander's office. Here, she paused, drew in a shaky breath and pressed the call button.

When the door slid open, revealing her old flame seated behind the desk, Shepard's mouth went dry and her carefully prepared speech crumbled to dust and blew away.

"Commander," he said, voice carefully composed though Shepard could seen the vein in his throat pulsing gently as she entered the room. Behind her, the door clicked shut, unnoticed.

Unsure of what she was about to say, Shepard simply allowed her mouth to open and say what immediately came to mind. "I'm sorry."

Kaidan rose from behind the desk and crossed the short distance between him and Shepard, coming to a halt so close to her she could feel the static charge from his bio-amp; the fine hair on her forearms prickled in response. "I've been...out of line," she heard herself say though how she managed to get the words out, she couldn't say. Her eyes seemed locked onto his and she felt as though she were falling into them. Into _him._ Gripped by a sudden urge to pull him to her and press her mouth to his, she instead grit her teeth and folded her arms across her chest.

"I understand where you're coming from," he replied.

"Oh?" She'd been in the room thirty seconds already and neither of them had raised their voice. This was a promising development.

"I had a talk with Chambers and realised I was maybe too judgemental when we met on Horizon."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Maybe?" Before he could answer, Shepard's hands, seemingly of their own accord grasped both of his, revelling in their warmth and firm grip. She swallowed. "Part of me still wants to hurt you but damn it..." she closed her eyes and breathed deep. Opening her eyes she went on. "I still love you, Kaidan. I always have."

Kaidan's mouth opened to say something, he didn't know quite what and Shepard pressed a forefinger to his lips, silencing him. "Hush," she whispered. Kaidan's arms encircled Shepard's waist and Shepard rested her head on his shoulder.

They stood together like that for a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**SSV Everest, Exodus Cluster**

_Remember, just like a drill._ Just like a drill? Yeah, right! Serviceman Chung silently griped. Who did the brass think they were kidding? The _drills_ had been established at a time long before anybody had even heard the term 'Reapers' as it referenced the race of sentient machines bent on total annihilation. The _drills_ were designed with the aim of instructing the young men and women who manned the gunnery controls of the Alliance's largest warships in the fine art of demolishing cruisers before they could pose a threat. The _drills _hadn't been designed with the aim of launching twenty-kilogram ferrous slugs at one to one point five percent of light speed per second at motherfreaking REAPERS!

Despite the climate-controlled cool of the _Everest's _combat deck, a trickle of perspiration ran from Chung's hairline. It matched the trickle of unease he felt along his spine. Chung reminded himself that, powerful as she was, the dreadnought _Everest_ wasn't alone out here in the black – the entire Alliance Fifth Fleet was here as well with craft ranging in size from single-seat fighters all the way up to the capital ships. The Fifth Fleet in turn was not alone either – the most battle-worthy of the quarian flotilla had joined the battle for survival. And a fleet of geth cruisers besides. Geth. Chung shook his head. There was a betting pool going, on who was apt to launch the first salvo, the quarians or their synthetic creations, thus dooming the already-fragile multi-lateral alliance.

Much as Chung respected Commander Shepard – the woman was a living legend after all, he was of the firm belief that the geth had no business playing nice with the very same organics they'd tried so very hard to kill. For centuries, in the case of the quarians. _Still, much better them than us if it comes to that._ And it wasn't like the geth were 'real people' – they were machines like the Reapers although not nearly as scary and great deal easier to kill.

Some tens of thousands of kilometres away, right next door in astronomical terms, was a single Reaper. Intel said it was 'small one.' Small? Shyeah right. Did those pen pushers not recall the cornholing a single Reaper had inflicted on the combined Citadel and human fleets?

"Gunnery control," Admiral Anderson's calm voice ordered and Chung stiffened in his seat. "Give me a firing solution on the Reaper."

Chung smiled as he recalled the words of the gunnery chief. _Sir Isaac Newton is the meanest sonofabitch in space!...This is a weapon of mass destruction!...That is why you check your damn targets! That is why you wait for a firing solution! That is why, Serviceman Chung, you do not 'eyeball it!' You are not a cowboy shooting from the hip!_

Chung smiled. He couldn't help it. Silently he mouthed, "If you pull that trigger, you are ruining someone's day, somewhere and some time!"

A female ensign's voice rose above the background murmur of a ship preparing for battle. "Firing solution locked in," she announced.

Standing tall on the combat deck, hands clasped behind his back, Anderson nodded. "Fire at will."

* * *

><p>If he hadn't been waiting for it, anticipating it, Anderson would not have felt the subtle vibration through the deck as the dreadnought's 1.8 kilometre long main gun loosed its payload at the distant target. Centred in the <em>Everest's<em> main holographic display, the insectile Reaper seemed to shudder the slug impacted it, shattered hull fragments spiralling out and away from the battle space at ever-increasing velocities. Even as the dreadnought's main gun spoke a second time, the Reaper extended a claw-like appendage towards its aggressor, a dull red glow at its tip rapidly brightening to crimson.

Calmly, the Admiral called into his comm, "All hands, brace for impact!"

The Reaper's potent energy weapon flared brighter than the system's parent star, lashing the _Everest's _kinetic barriers and shaking the dreadnought's superstructure. As the attack subsided, Anderson demanded, "Damage report?"

"Kinetic barriers stable and holding at sixty-two percent," the ensign reported. A moment later she added. "The barriers can't take another hit like that, sir."

The Admiral nodded, calmly accepting this data. Beyond the _Everest, _the geth and quarian fleets added their own firepower and landing shots that would have utterly destroyed any allied vessel. The Reaper appeared to shrug off the damage, turning each of its appendages on a separate target. Simultaneously, three quarian and two geth craft dissolved in silent fireballs.

Anderson opened a comm line to Engineering, "Redirect all power from non-essential systems to the kinetic barriers." Over the ship-wide channel he ordered, "All hands secure for null-Gee operations." As he spoke, Anderson seated himself in the captain's chair at the centre of the CIC. A touch on an armrest control and straps slid into place across his hips, preventing him from floating free. Throughout the CIC, a rattle of metallic clicks echoed as each crewman strapped into their stations. As the dreadnought switched to null Gee, the lights dimmed and red emergency lighting cast an eerie glow upon the crew.

"Status?" Anderson called.

The ensign looked up from her console, "Kinetics at seventy-five percent and rising."

"Gunnery," Anderson straightened in his chair, "Give it everything we've got."

Even in the cold vacuum of space, the dreadnought's heat sinks struggled to dissipate the heat from repeated firings of the main gun and the ambient temperature within the CIC rose noticeably. And still, the Reaper would not succumb, claiming two of the Alliance cruisers flanking the _Everest._

Then the ensign's voice rose in surprise as she reported, "Sir, sensors are detecting a massive surge in the Reaper's acceleration; it's jumping to FTL!"

A ragged cheer went up among the crew even as Anderson ordered, "Plot its most likely course and send out alerts to the fleets in other sectors. That thing has to show up somewhere." Anderson leaned forward in his seat, studying the now-empty space in the holographic display where the Reaper had been. "And when it does, we'll be ready."


End file.
